


Solitude and Freedom

by robinelli



Series: Wings [4]
Category: Free!
Genre: Haru centric, M/M, Rin and Haru are bros in suffering, Wing!AU, Winged!Haru, Winged!RIn, no Makoto sorry, only references to romance in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinelli/pseuds/robinelli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is an almost perfect quiet when one's wings transport the body far beyond the clouds and all that surrounds the mind is endless blue and glistening light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitude and Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have another part of the wings AU series, this time from Haru's perspective.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

There is an almost perfect quiet when one's wings transport the body far beyond the clouds and all that surrounds the mind is endless blue and glistening light. 

How had Haru relished the feeling of complete freedom and delicious silence after more than a decade in the cacophony that was the city! And how had he cursed this oppressive quiet and the promise of a horizon just waiting to be conquered when he truly understood that he had not gained liberty, but a solitary cell with the most frustratingly gorgeous view.

As he came to see his situation for what it was, he had resented his new limbs, even resented the sky itself for being so grand and open, and yet so far away from everything he cared for. 

The quiet and the loneliness became his companions, except for the rare times when Makoto would find time enough to climb some of the higher buildings so they could communicate for more than mere minutes. It was never enough, and the winged children he shared his introductory flying classes with were poor substitutions for the perfection of kindness and patience he had found in his green-eyed friend.

Competitive Rin lit a fire in him, but it seemed to be barely sustained for brief burst, like straw burning up. When they would race and he felt the exhilaration that comes with pushing the limits of the body, sometimes he almost felt whole, only to receive a painful reminder when no one waited for him at the finish line. More than once he had dreamed of green eyes greeting him and large hands softly, proudly caressing his sensitive wings, cooing loving words of praise, rewarding him with passionate kisses and long embraces.

It was no consolation that Rin too was missing his loved ones, a sister not much younger than them, his sweet mother and a lover that Haru had inferred from all too familiar longing glances and glistening tears.

They met that day, like they often did when their preferred company could not see them. Approaching the opulent city plaza which was overlooked by the council, located in a multitude of ornate and interwoven towers, Haru spotted the read hair from a mile. He shot towards the other man, already feeling the need to race, to win, thrumming through his veins, his blood almost burning up with the expectation of the exertion his body would soon perform.

Rin was after him like a flash, and off they went, following their usual route through the towers, sometimes barely grazing them, but mostly avoiding them smoothly with minor tilts in their position. 

Rin overtook him more than once, but in the end he was victorious, and the soreness already settling into his limbs was the most rewarding feeling he knew, aside from the monthly nights in strong arms he treasured more than he could say.

And yet he was alone, back at the plaza where he softly landed and turned his gaze to Rin who touched the ground not far from him. The other man patted him on the back and laughed, but Haru knew that there was a sadness there, somewhere behind the brave front.

“You really are the fastest flyer.” said the red-head and Haru just nodded, looking into the distance. 

With the years, they had learned to somewhat, awkwardly read the other, such that Rin knew, pushing Haru now was a thoroughly wasted effort. It was intriguing, if bothersome that he still tried.

“We should get a spire with stairs.” said Rin, in an echo of a thousand conversations already gone past. 

It was not that Haru did not agree, they should in fact buy a floor in a spire with many rooms and stairs or better yet an elevator. The problem had never been in the what, but in the how. 

Life above the clouds was easier, it was healthier and it was safer, but the same rules as below still applied, and lowly couriers like them may look the part of belonging to winged and well to do society, but they were just employees, bound to the wages others were willing to pay them, and to the prices the shops charged for their daily needs.

With their station in life, between these two boundaries, that there was even the laughable amount Haru could put aside from his wages to save for a betterment of his lovers life, was almost a miracle. It might be slightly more if they would reduce or remove their monthly lovemaking. But really, what good would the money do if Haru just didn't unfold his wings one day after stepping from his balcony? The very idea of seeing Makoto even less, had him considering his splattered body dirtying the already filthy roads as a pleasant alternative, so this expense was an essential one.

Rin was not faring much better, Haru was sure and they separated in the knowledge that the other was just as miserable as themselves.

It was not quite dark when Haru came home, yet he carefully lit the oil lamp illuminating the whole of the single room he lived in.

With a sigh he turned to the canvas on the easel waiting for him in the corner, the easel having been a gift from the Tachibana's back when all was still right with the world, and the pencils, brushs and oily colours an assortment of special payments he had collected from an artist over the years, when he had made special deliveries for him.

In the blandness of his life, painting scenes and creatures from the stories Mrs. Tachibana and his grandmother used to read him and Makoto to great effect, was a small relief. He still remembered the pictures in those books fondly although he tried not to recall them too much, for fear of feeling the loss all over again.

In front of him on the canvas was sitting a painting of an ocean, with a proud ship sailing towards the open horizon, and on it two people, one with black, the other with brown hair, their backs turned to the viewer.

They were free, and yet not lonesome at all. 

With another sigh and longing in his eyes he took up his brush and set to work again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, let me know and I might do more.


End file.
